


Yet I Will Endure

by CourierNinetyTwo



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: F/F, Knifeplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 11:51:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17662088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CourierNinetyTwo/pseuds/CourierNinetyTwo
Summary: Encouraged by a few Guardians, Petra dares to step into the Queen's Court.





	Yet I Will Endure

**Author's Note:**

> For Funblade!

Petra stared at the chunk of amethyst the Titan handed to her and frowned. It quietly pulsed with power from the Blind Well, beating like a heart. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Visit the Queen, obviously." The Hunter beside Petra emphasized the words with a broad-handed gesture, silver-slick Ahamkara bones glittering up the length of each arm. "You stick that in the Oracle Engine, and wham, throne room."

She sighed, holding out the offering to return it. "I cannot. My duty is here in the Dreaming City, by her order."

Petra's throat tightened. More than anything, she missed Mara's voice, its unyielding comfort. With every word, the world took on a more stable shape, and the world felt so very fragile right now.

"You've been stuck here for _months_ , Petra." Even behind their helmets, Petra knew both Guardians had faces set with displeasure. "Just for an hour. Go and see her before the cycle starts all over again."

"Do you know what can happen in an hour?" Petra growled back, fingers cutting around facets of amethyst. "The Taken attack every few minutes, and the Scorn are right behind them. I have to stay and--"

"And what?" It was the Titan that spoke this time, low and careful. "Mara doesn't let you fight in the field. You just need someone to take control here for a little while. We can do that."

"Big Horny here is right. The Corsairs like us, anyway." The Hunter grinned, ignoring the glare from her companion when the impressive horns of their helmet were mocked. "Two Guardians has to be close to one you, huh? Just go. Don't wait."

The gem in her hand may as well have been lead. It could have weighed ten thousand tons, dragging Petra down into the earth, for all the offering burdened her. Yet the yearning that consumed her, body and soul, was that much stronger.

"One hour," Petra said, barely above a whisper. "No more."

She was shepherded from her post with a kind shove and shouts of excitement, leaving Petra fighting not to smile. Guardians were always energetic, if nothing else.

Mirth slipped away as she approached the Oracle Engine, imposing but empty. Those in the City cleared the Taken away from its doors every morning like a simple household chore, so the entire room was silent, save for the light tap of her footsteps and the perpetual hum of the engine itself, constantly shifting its alignment.

When she reached the dais in front of the drifting rings, Petra drew in a deep breath. This could anger Mara, certainly. Perhaps it would even earn a punishment from her Queen, but she had survived exile once, and now suffered the endless loop of those she cared about begging for help that she could never provide.

Getting to see Mara's face, even for a moment, would outweigh every ounce of pain.

Petra cupped the amethyst between both hands and presented it to the strange machine with respect, head lowered as the offering was taken, breaking into a thousand points of light. The Oracle Engine whirled in a silent frenzy before its center opened, parting into two halves like a set of doors. In front of her, a floating platform beckoned.

She stepped onto it, then passed forward through the engine's ominous glow.

The Queen's Court coalesced around Petra, magnificent and endless. It was a stretch of stolen sky, a galaxy of Mara's own design, spilling in lush purples and lurid red as far as the eye could see. Every piece of the court itself was carved and polished smooth, flawless crescents that fed into one another.

And upon the central seat--the throne--was Mara herself, who snapped from her musing the moment their gazes met.

"Petra." Disbelief was a rare tone in her Queen's voice, and not one she welcomed.

"I am sorry, my Queen." Petra fell to one knee out of instinct, bowing far enough that the cold floor reflected her face. "I had to see you. I swear I have not lost my faith, but I needed, I needed--"

She loved Mara so much, fierce as the Wrath she was named for. Perhaps, as humans said it, absence did make the heart grow fonder, but her heart also threatened to collapse on itself with each passing day, held at a distance from her queen like a moon trapped in orbit.

"Petra," Mara said her name softer the second time, but the interruption was enough to still her tongue. "Come here."

Humbled in posture, Petra closed the distance between herself and Mara before sinking back to one knee, the edge of her Queen's boots only inches away from her own. They glittered with starlight, a flickering essence of power that Petra had never seen before. Light yet not _Light_ , a pattern of darkness without the claim of Darkness itself.

"My Wrath." Slender azure fingers slipped under Petra's chin, tipping it upward with the lightest pressure. Their faces aligned, and it took every semblance of restraint for Petra not to weep at the touch, much less the silver glory of her Queen's eyes. "I have wounded you so."

Petra opened her mouth to protest, to apologize for such a presumption, but Mara's fingers slipped to her lips, sealing them with a touch. She shivered, staying silent and not daring to move a second time.

"You need not wound yourself further to guard my pride," Mara whispered, and for a second, there was so much sorrow in her stare that Petra forgot to breathe. It vanished in a blink, but an echo remained, curling up inside Petra's chest. "I resigned you to a lonely fate, a limb separate from the rest of the body."

To hear it said aloud severed the chains of discipline Petra used to stay upright, and she swallowed back a sob. Fearful as she was of disrupting Mara's plans, there was sublime relief in having her Queen so close. Such was the one thing she never dared wish for, no matter how strong the temptation.

"I can leave now," Petra murmured, "this is enough."

"Is it?" Mara's head tilted slightly with the question. "But did the Guardians not promise you an hour?"

Her eye widened. Of course the Queen knew, as she knew everything that had come to pass before, and would tear through the future.

"Every minute is a treasure, my Queen," Petra finally managed to answer. "Were you to grant me an hour, of course I would honor it."

Mara's hand cupped her cheek, and Petra lost her center of gravity as she was pulled into a hard kiss. The galaxy itself might have been undone in that instant, but she knew nothing save the warmth of Mara's mouth, salve and sanctuary.

"Then honor me, Petra," Mara whispered against her lips, "how long has it been since I have taken the pleasure of your touch?"

Too long, although Petra dreamed of it every night her duties hadn't consigned her to exhaustion's oblivion. She dared to place a hand on Mara's knees, ignoring the cold ornaments armoring each one, and was welcomed by the subtle spread of her Queen's legs. It felt like revelation, desire igniting in the pit of Petra's stomach with the glory of an ancient forge.

Her fingers traversed Mara's thighs, tracing the smooth material until she found the clasps at the top of her Queen's boots. She passed those, daring higher under Mara's skirt until finding the softer edge of dark leggings. Heat radiated against her palms as Petra peeled them down, encouraged by the tilt of Mara's hips. Her Queen's skin cut a bright swath between purple-dyed leather and dark armor, and between her legs, she glistened.

Petra trembled at the sight, eagerness warring with her nerves. So much time had passed--and she had touched no other, of course--that perhaps hard-earned skill no longer was honed to its utmost edge or--

Mara's hand pushed against the back of her head, and Petra groaned at the tight grip in her hair. Suddenly she could think of was pleasing her Queen, no matter how long it took. She kissed up the inside of each thigh, her arms framing Mara's legs before she delved between them, claiming her lover's taste for the first time in months.

Slick heat answered every exploratory stroke of Petra's tongue, Mara's folds parting open to welcome her deeper. She licked and sucked until her mouth knew nothing but _Mara_ , wet and real and alive, aching against her lips.

"Just like that, Petra," Mara whispered above her, a rasp of longing caught between syllables, framing her name. "You're all mine. You're still mine."

Petra moaned against sensitive flesh, her fingers gripping Mara's thighs so tight she had to remember her own strength. When she drew her Queen's clit into her mouth, the response was a low hiss of pleasure, so she worshipped it with gentle passes and flickers of her tongue, chasing the swell of arousal that demanded more and more.

Her own surged in turn, powerful enough that Petra brought her thighs together to trap the growing need there and focus on her task. When Mara's hand pressed against the back of her head again, Petra brought her tongue lower, offering shallow thrusts of supplication inside her Queen's entrance, right along its sensitive rim. Satisfaction twisted hot in her gut every time Mara clenched tight, betraying the true depth of her Queen's desire.

A tremor carried through Mara's legs, echoed when they pressed together on either side of Petra's head. She gasped, returning her attention to Mara's clit, urging that tremor to an earthquake, to divine cataclysm. Her Queen's low growl drew Petra's gaze upward to eyes eclipsed black with bliss, and she affixed the image in her mind, desperate to carry it for eternity.

Mara's orgasm was quiet but lingered in short jerks of her hips, spilling slick across Petra's mouth as she lapped up every errant drop. She didn't stop until her Queen's hand insisted upon it, dazed and breathless while staying balanced on weak knees.

"Still so gentle, my Wrath," Mara whispered, releasing her hold on Petra's hair. Clever fingers spun a caress back to a sky-toned cheek, right below her eyepatch. "Still so devoted."

"Always, your Majesty," Petra answered without hesitation, despite the ragged edge to her voice.

"A truth I wish to reward." Then a hint of a smile played across Mara's face, so small and intimate that Petra bit her lip. Her Queen almost never, ever smiled, and to have pleased her so was almost its own release. "Come up into my lap, Petra."

Mara's seat was wide enough to welcome the shift, and Petra settled against her Queen by straddling Mara's hips, knees splayed on either side. It wasn't a position she knew well--Petra had been _over_ her Queen's lap, certainly, but here the difference in their heights became salient--she was taller, looking down at the person who possessed her heart and soul.

"Those Regent leathers fit you perfectly," Mara proclaimed, palms flush against Petra's body as they traveled down her breasts, her ribs. "But I want you out of them, my Wrath."

She moved to obey, only for both wrists to be trapped in her Queen's harsh grip, brought behind her back like she was at attention. Petra shivered; the movement had been too quick for her to read, much less react to.

"Stay." Silver eyes flashed with the command, and Petra willed herself still, a statue in Mara's presence. Her Queen's hand drifted down to one hip, where the knife that defined both title and loyalty lay hilted. "Do you remember when I placed this blade in your hands, Petra?"

It was the happiest day of her life. "Of course, your Majesty. I could never forget."

"Then you remember it is as much a part of me as you are." Mara drew the knife free with a whisper of metal. "Is it not?"

Petra swallowed hard. "Yes, my Queen."

Another smile passed Mara's lips, fleeting but sharper than the weapon she now held. "Good. Now be patient."

She wasn't sure what Mara wanted her to wait for, but that didn't matter. Petra remained how she'd been posed, even as a prickle of anticipation worked its way up her spine. Then the prickle pulled at the rope binding her pauldrons, and Petra realized it wasn't the work of her body at all.

Mara's hands weren't moving, but they didn't have to. Her mental power alone was enough, exerting her will over every layer of clothing as Petra was stripped. It was the same ability Petra used to make the knife in her Queen's grasp dance and flip, ignoring the constraints of gravity, but a thousand-fold stronger.

Naked in Mara's lap, hiding her arousal was unavoidable. Petra's nipples were so hard they ached under the Court's cool atmosphere, and the wetness between her legs threatened to spill forth with the slightest contact.

"Knees wider, my Wrath," Mara ordered.

Petra spread them as far as she could stand, back straight as she could will it with both hands at the small of her back. Her Queen let out an absent hum of approval, then brought the flat of the knife right under Petra's chin. The curved spine pressed into the soft skin of her throat, and she moaned before she could stop herself.

"Look at how well you fit together." Mara's other hand explored down Petra's body--the lines of her collarbones, the slope of her breasts, the tight column of muscle framing her stomach--but the blade never moved a centimeter. "We have played games of denial before, Petra, but I am not in the mood for them today. When the need rises in you, there is no need to hold back."

"Thank you, my Queen," Petra said, the last word catching on a gasp when Mara's palm cupped between her thighs.

Mara's gaze took on that particular sheen again, and Petra keened as a pair of fingers stroked across her folds. She dripped across her Queen's hand with that single touch, swollen and sensitive with need. On the loneliest nights in the Dreaming City, she hid away in her quarters and rode herself to orgasm, but it was nothing compared to Mara. Nothing ever was.

"Look at how much you offer me, even now." Mara slipped a finger past Petra's entrance, slowly sinking deep. "I shall give the same in return."

She didn't register what that meant until a phantom pressure claimed her breasts, invisible but carrying the force of another set of hands. Petra cut her teeth on another moan, the sound spiking in volume when Mara added a second finger inside her. Power spread across Petra's skin as another spectral caress swept down the length of her spine, and more seeking touches followed the curve of her ass.

Mara's influence was everywhere, in the very air she breathed, and Petra staggered under so much sensation at once, plucking at her nerves like an instrument's strings. She clenched around her Queen's fingers and whimpered as a bolt of bliss shot through her body in response, Mara's gaze unblinking but deep with fascination.

"Take me, my Wrath." With the command, Mara curved her fingers in a shallow thrust, her thumb centered right below Petra's clit. "Hunt your pleasure."

Petra trembled as her hips began to move, starting slow but swift to find a rhythm. Mara answered with a thousand wandering touches along the inside Petra's thighs, gripping the back of her neck, toying with the hardened peaks of her breasts. It was almost impossible not to thrash and shout in her Queen's lap, chasing the heights of ecstasy while possessed from every possible angle.

"Mara." Her Queen's name slipped absent title from Petra's lips, fraught with need.

"I know, my Wrath." Mara tilted her head to kiss Petra on the lips, rocking her fingers into another firm thrust. "You don't have to last. You only have to feel."

She cried out against Mara's mouth as a third finger eased inside her, the stretch leaving her shaking. "Please, my Queen, _please_..."

"Hold onto me if you have to." Mara's voice was even and soothing, even as her power wreaked loving havoc over every inch of Petra's body. "Break if you must."

With permission given, she shattered. Petra's hands clutched at Mara's shoulders as the endless coils of ecstasy twisting inside her unwound at the same time, a primal cry escaping her lips. She wept and writhed, but the blade at her throat never cut flesh. It was an anchor as the rest of her world fell apart, as the walls she'd built around herself for months collapsed in unison.

All was empty, blissfully empty. There was nothing but Mara in this private corner of the universe, hidden from the tethers of their fate. Petra sagged against her Queen, tears trickling down one side of her face as she buried it in the curve of Mara's shoulder. The knife slipped away, abandoned to one arm of the throne.

 _I am sorry, Petra_.

The words resonated in her mind, and although Mara's lips hadn't moved, she knew it was her Queen speaking. Such vulnerability could not be voiced aloud, not when every enemy was listening, when secrets were the only currency keeping the Awoken alive.

"How long do we have left?" Petra finally managed to ask.

"A little while longer," Mara replied. "Rest, my Wrath. You're safe here."

Whether or not that was true, Petra didn't know. Yet she was sure her faith in Mara remained, and that was enough.

Her eye closed, and she fell asleep in her Queen's arms.

\--

**Author's Note:**

> "I will love the light for it shows me the way, yet I will endure the darkness because it shows me the stars." -Og Mandino


End file.
